


cold skies, keen perils

by renegadees



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, not really rated m, not really teen and up either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 17:19:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15689895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegadees/pseuds/renegadees
Summary: Scotland was the last place she hadn't looked for him, it was the last place she expected him to go. Which in hindsight is what probably made it all the more of an appealing place to hide out.





	cold skies, keen perils

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a long ass time since I've written anything so I'm a little out of practice.

London had been downright pleasant compared to the dull roar of the wind that greets her when she apparates to the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Immediately she's hit with fat, hard raindrops that obscure her vision and makes her hair stick to her cheeks in clumps.

 

Yesterday when she'd walked into the Auror Department at the Ministry she'd been greeted by Theseus holding up that morning's  _Daily Prophet._ The second she'd seen the headline she'd gone looking for Newt, only for Bunty to inform her that Newt had left about five minutes after he'd arrived and she nor anyone else had seen him since. By that time he'd already had a two-hour head start on her and thus began the Theseus-approved day-long manhunt.

At the back of her mind, she'd known that he'd be here, and not because she'd exhausted every other avenue in her one-woman search party.

She wraps her coat tighter around her body as she walks not towards The Three Broomsticks but towards the Hogshead.  _Depressing news calls for an equally depressing place to drink,_ she thinks, as she opens the door to the Inn and has to stop herself from putting her hand over her nose to ward off the stench. It smells like barnyard animals and stale vomit, like sweat and firewhisky, and as the door swings shut behind her she gets a good look at the room and understands why. In the short time she's been in England, she's never known the pub to exceed more than four or five people at a time. But now there're probably four to five people at every table, drinking silently. No one speaks, there's no merriment like there would be across the way at The Three Broomsticks - there's barely any  _movement_ , everyone looks like they're stuck in past memories.

She turns to look for Aberforth and finds him behind the bar wiping a dirty glass with a dirtier rag. He nods his head in acknowledgment and tilts his head towards the stairs that lead up to the rooms. 

Tina sighs and moves through the tables filled with morose drunks and proceeds up the stairs.

-

The hallway lanterns are thankfully burning low as the floor beneath her feet is a little sticky and she'd rather not know what she was stepping on.

Every vacant room door is slightly ajar, the only closed doors are the ones at the end of the hallway - which she assumes are Aberforth's rooms - and a closed-door halfway down where she assumes Newt's been held up since yesterday.

When she knocks on the door it swings open silently, the only light in the room coming from the lamp outside.

"Leave the bottles on the table."

"I didn't bring any up with me."

There's a snuffle and he wipes his nose on the sleeve of his coat, "I expected you a lot sooner, love."

Tina smiles sadly at him and the rare use of the pet name and walks further into the room, the door swinging shut as silently as it opened, "It's not like you made it easy, Newt."

"I rather thought I had," he looks up at her briefly before casting his eyes back towards the empty hearth, "I've been here since yesterday morning and I've yet to leave."

He certainly  _looks_ like he hasn't left since yesterday. His eyes are glassy and bloodshot, there's blonde stubble on his chin and cheeks and his whole attire reeks of  _I've been slept in_ , although the bed doesn't look like it's been used so she assumes he's fallen asleep at the table - which happens to have a good four to six empty bottles of firewhisky sitting atop it in varying degrees of disarray. And that's not including the one he's balancing on his knee. 

She casts one more cursory glance over him before looking around the room. It's not small but it's by no means large, and there's a puddle under the open window where the rain's still coming in.

First, she closes the window and another charm makes the water hiss and fizz until it's no longer there. After five minutes the room isn't exactly welcoming, but neither of them no longer run the risk of losing limbs to frostbite if they stay in here for another hour.

The glow from the newly lit hearth makes him look paler than he was in the dark, the stubble more prominent and the glassy look in his eyes more haunting. It's tragically beautiful and it twists her gut into knots.

The chair he's been using as a footrest he kicks out for her, and she has a single moment of hesitation before bypassing it and sitting sideways in his lap instead. It's a testament to how far gone he is that his only reaction is to wrap his arms around her to keep her from falling instead of being shocked. She reaches around behind her to where the firewhisky bottle presses into her back and takes it, staring at him as she takes a mouthful. It burns all the way down her throat and makes her eyes water and her nose run, but she doesn't cough as she hands the bottle back to Newt and he takes it with a grim smile and knocks back the rest of it.

"When'd you find out?" he asks as he looks down into the fire.

"According to Bunty about two hours after you did. You should owl her by the way, let her know you're not lying in a ditch somewhere."

"Later." He replies.

She scratches the back of his neck and he practically purrs as he rolls his head around to look at her again, his hooded eyes meeting her clear ones.

"If you're here to lecture..."

She cuts him off, "I'm here to drink."

"Really?" He asks, disbelieving.

Tina nods than asks, "Have you really not moved since yesterday morning?"

"There's a celebration to be had," his smile is bitter and there's no humor in his words as he gestures towards the table where yesterdays newspaper sits stained with the remnants of last nights alcohol, "the Ministry finally gives a damn."

" _Newt_."

" _British Ministry Declares War on Grindelwald!_ " he looks back up at her, "And to think it only took them three years to admit he was a threat."

" _Newt,_ " she says again.

He bites his lip and looks down at the paper again, "Didn't really see the point in moving. Though I'll admit I'm a little surprised _here_ wasn't the first place you checked."

"I was kind of on the right track," she admits, "I checked the Leaky Cauldron first."

He snorts then goes quiet again, his hand clenching and unclenching on her thigh. She knows he's itching for another full bottle of firewhisky, she also knows that she shouldn't encourage this kind of behaviour but after the confirmation that she's now being sent to war along with spending the last twenty-four hours searching the entire country for Newt, she'd like to at least  _try_ and get on his level right now.

The bottle they'd been drinking from sits on the table next to them, empty. When she moves to get up he holds steady and his head whips around to look at her. Relaxing back into his she presses her lips to his forehead.

"I'll be back I promise, I'm just going downstairs."

He lets her go and she deftly slides off his lap and walks out the door.

-

They'd acknowledged their feelings almost two years ago after Paris, but had still yet to do anything about it. Just an unspoken promise that they were  _it_ for each other. Including tonight, she can count on one hand the number of times he's called her  _love_ , all of which happened after they'd battled Grindelwald the last time and she'd spent the next week in St. Mungo's. Not that she remembers a lot about those days, mostly just Newt's solid presence next to her for the entire duration. Since then there have been long looks and a lot of  _almost's_. Brushing of hands and lingering touches that left their skin tingling. All tedious to other people, but moments that meant the world to the both of them.

Tonight though, with their future so uncertain, all she wants to do is drink and let him hold her. Two things he seems more than inclined to do.

With two bottles in hand, she makes her way back up to his rooms, once again ignoring the stickiness of the floor and kicking the door twice with the toe of her boot. It swings open and she walks straight in, kicking it closed behind her than making her way over to the chairs and table diagonal to the fireplace where it looks like Newt hasn't moved an inch in the five minutes she's been gone.

Placing the bottles down with twin  _thunks_ she takes off her coat and drapes it over the opposite chair, then, feeling his hands encircle her waist, she lets herself be pulled back down into his lap.

"These are the last ones." She tells him.

He looks up at her suspiciously from where his lips rest against her shoulder.

"Theseus' called for an early meeting tomorrow to talk strategy," she explains, "and not only can you  _not_ hold your liquor on a good day, you've been on a two-day bender  _and_ you smell like a distillery."

"It's a good thing you're not here to lecture." He grumbles as he pushes his temple into her shoulder.

She reaches over and the cork on the bottle pops off as her hand closes around the neck, "Good thing I'm not here to lecture," she agrees and takes the first gulp than hands it to him.

He takes a shuddering breath before swallowing a large mouthful, masking the real tears behind the burn from the alcohol instead. They pass the bottle back and forth in silence for a long while after that. She can taste him as her lips meet the mouth of the bottle, she knows he watches her as she drinks, can feel him looking at her neck as she swallows. She knows because sometimes his lips will press against her throat, and it's taking every last ounce of self-control to not gasp and choke on whatever she's just downed.

It's during one of these moments that he pulls her against him so he can bury his head in the juncture between her shoulder and neck and she can feel the tears soak through her shirt.

" _Newt,_ " she whispers.

"I don't want to do it again."

"Do what?"

"Fight." He moans.

" _Newt,_ " she tries to get him to look up at her but he won't, " _Newt,_ you won't have to..."

He cuts her off, "Not  _yet_ I won't. But if I'm already being summoned to a strategy meeting than I'm not too far off."

"You're a  _magizoologist_ Newt, there's no reason-"

He cuts her off again, "It was why I was on the Eastern Front, it was partly the reason as to why I was in Paris two years ago. Don't you  _see_ , Tina? Apart from Dumbledore, we're the only people who've faced Grindelwald more than once and lived.  _Of course_  I'll be called up to fight. It's inevitable."

"Nothing's inevitable." She replies automatically.

He rolls his eyes and takes another pull from the bottle.

"You don't  _have_ to Newt. It's not like the last time, there's no conscription, it's not even your division."

"Don't be ridiculous," he isn't harsh but he isn't gentle either, "we don't really know who's on Grindelwald's side and who isn't. I'd rather be the one to fight by your side instead of someone else."

" _Don't_. Don't you  _dare_ sign up just to keep an eye on me. If something were to happen to you I'd never forgive myself, or  _you_." She hates that whenever she gets frustrated she starts crying, she's sure the alcohol doesn't help either.

"It'd ease mine and Leta's nerves considerably if it were you and Theseus always partnered together, but we can't all get what we want and so I'll be there."

" _Newt_."

"It's non-negotiable." He snaps, hiding his shaking hands by putting the bottle to his mouth again.

He makes a distressed noise as the bottle is suddenly snatched away and slammed down onto the wooden tabletop. He has seconds to wipe away the remnants from his mouth and chin before her lips press into his. The hand that was splayed against her lower back moves up to tangle in her hair and his other hand sits high on her left leg, his fingers digging into her inner thigh and making her moan.

Both her hands have fisted the hair on either side of his head as she bites his lower lip before pulling back and dragging it with her, making him moan in turn. They're panting and looking at each other now, part disbelieving, part relieved.

"I could keep you away from it all."

"No, you couldn't." His hand in her hair tightens and pulls her head back as he dives for her throat.

"I'll get Theseus to assign you somewhere else," she moans.

"He won't do it." He sucks on a small section of skin hard enough to hurt, then bites down. He thinks he's gone too far when he feels her get up, but it's only so she can reposition herself so she can straddle him.

"Than I'll ask someone else." She rolls her hips against his.

He moves his hands and settles them on the tops of her thighs, periodically moving them around to squeeze her rear and grind her down on him.

"I'll disobey orders." 

She pulls back, "You wouldn't."

The look he gives her clearly says  _he would_. But she doesn't have time to dissect it as he pulls her against him again. 

He pulls back and slows down, panting into her neck, "I'm going to be there Tina, I  _want_ to be there. Besides Theseus and maybe Moody, I don't trust anyone else in that department."

She sighs, reluctantly agreeing, "Neither do I."

He pulls her back to him, both arms wrap around her middle and holds her close as he leans up to kiss her once more. Gently,  _thoroughly._

"You can't do that every time to win an argument," she warns him.

He smiles against her lips, "Why not? It works."

" _Newt_."

"I promise to use my powers for good and not evil."

_That cad,_ she can  _hear_ the smile in his voice. As punishment, she rolls her hips firmly into his again and he hisses.

She sighs regretfully as she eases up and pulls back, "We should probably call it a night."

He looks over at the bed then back to her, "I agree."

"Not like  _that_ ," Tina rolls her eyes, "The meeting tomorrow's scheduled for seven thirty."

Newt pulls back and looks aghast, "Who the bloody hell schedules a meeting for  _seven thirty_ in the morning?"

She doesn't need to say  _take a wild guess_ , he reads it loud and clear on her face.

"That  _bastard_." He snarls.

She laughs and stands up, pulling him with her, "You need a bath, Mr. Scamander. And then we both need a good nights sleep.

-

After debating which one of them is sober enough to handle a straight razor (Tina), which one of them is in more need of a bath (Newt, although he insists that it's big enough for two - it's not) and which one of them is present enough to use the right spells to clean their clothes and leave them in front of the fire (Tina again, as Newt's shaking so bad she wouldn't put it past him to render their clothes to ashes). They lie facing each other in the single cot, he uses the flat pillow and she rests her head on his outstretched arm. Their legs entwined and their noses brushing every so often.

After being quiet for so long, his whisper sounds too loud in the room, "Did Theseus send you to look for me?"

"Yes," she says, "but even if he didn't I would've come anyway."

He nods his head slightly in acknowledgment, bumping his nose with hers again.

"I'm so tired, Tina."

"I know."

"I don't want to fight in another war." He sounds so small, so helpless.

Her hand curls around his ear as her thumb rubs back and forth over the hair there, "You won't have to, I won't let them. Not until you have to anyway."

"Don't want you to be alone." He mumbles. He's fading, fast.

"I won't be." She assures him.

He opens his eyes groggily to look at her beseechingly, " _I_ don't want to be alone."

"You won't be," she repeats, "I've got you, Newt."

He smiles at the memory, " _I'll catch you._ "

"Exactly," she smiles, as he finally succumbs to sleep.

-

Eventually, they'll have to leave the safety of the Inn. Eventually, they'll apparate to London, where Theseus and Bunty and the rest of the Ministry will be waiting for them.

Eventually, they'll have to fight.

For now, though, they get to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever just have a work sitting unfinished on your desktop forever and think "screw it let's post it"? that's essentially what this is.
> 
> @ renegade-es


End file.
